Red Eye
by lil smiles
Summary: Being blind was one thing, having to relive his past was a whole other monster. AU - Tag to 1x16 Bloodshot. Jane/Lisbon. Help-Haiti fic for Cat. Chapter 5: Looney Bin.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Okay so here's the deal. I offered a fanfic for the Haiti relief efforts through LJ's Help-Haiti auction. And the lovely and wonderful Cat won my bid. Everyone wave to Cat. So after writing and re-writing this bad boy so many times, I've finally (I think) have together a decent enough fic to begin to post. ****I think I promised her between 6,000 - 10,000 words so the chapters will be longer than this little prologue. With direction from Cat, here's where we are in terms of the show. J****ane hasn't recovered his sight post 1x16 _Bloodshot_ and the team stumbles across another case. Oh and there will be a surprise cameo in here somewhere down the line. Just keep your fingers crossed that I don't run into any more brick walls. A million and one thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read/favourite my stories so far. I cannot thank you guys enough. Enjoy!**

**Spoilers: 1x16 _Bloodshot_**

**Warnings: You will be warned when needed to be... Ominous, yes?**

**Disclaimer: Last time I checked I wasn't Bruno Heller. Actually, there's a part of me that's kind of glad I'm me.  
**

* * *

**Prologue**

Old cigar smoke. Whisky. A faint, salty cologne. The mélange of aromas assaulted his senses. He fumbled his way through the unfamiliar corridor, his white cane tapping furiously against the wall to guide him.

"Jane!"

The voice was almost drowned out by the distinctive sound of gunshots. He should have stopped, but he didn't. He knew he wasn't in any real danger. Rounding the corner, he pressed his ear against the first door. The distinctive pop, pop, pop were coming from the other side. He felt for the handle. The door opened half an inch when a pair of strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders, roughly pulling him backward. He wound up tangled with her limbs, his body pressed up against her smaller frame.

"Are you okay?"

The contours of her lips were just brushing his ear.

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

He was well aware of her chest rising and falling beneath him, before he felt a sudden sharp pinch on his arm.

"Owww."

She pushed herself off of him as she quickly scrambled to her feet.

"Don't move," she whispered fiercely.

He was about to protest when he was interrupted by heavy footfalls. He pictured Cho, Rigsby and an army of SWAT, barreling into the room in question. Sighing, Jane shook his head and picked himself off the floor. He readjusted the dark glasses on his face and wandered in, purposely bumping into a couple of heavily armored officers in the way.

"Pardon me, blind man walking!" he announced. "Let me guess? We don't have a crazy, rifle-wielding yahoo in here."

Nobody offered a response. The smug grin on his face instantly faded.

"Lisbon? Lisbon, what is it? What do you see?"

He heard her holstering her weapon, followed by the others. The sporadic gunfire was still deafening until an abrupt click. Then, silence.

"Lisbon…"

His hand found with her shoulder. He knew even before he touched her, something was horribly wrong.

* * *

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 1: Last Night

**A/N: Oh wow, I definitely did not expect all of that feedback for the Prologue. Thank you! Here's Chapter 1! If you feel lost, don't worry, it's going to be a bit confusing for the first couple of chapters. Most likely I'll be alternating POVs between Jane and Lisbon. Let's just hope everything works out according to plan (fat chance, but a girl can dream). Any questions, theories or comments, send them my way! All you have to do is press that green button at the bottom of the page. Thanks to ****Yana, Smudje, Cat, Tracie, MentalistLover, BFangz, Mrs Speer, Amber, Div, Lynne, Shelly, Geilie, Isabella, anthropologist, TeresaJane, Kathiann and bluedragon1836 for reviewing. Special thanks to Lysh for being my second set of eyes and Cat for giving me such a fun plotline to play with. Enjoy!**

**Warnings: Still nothing. But it's coming...**

**Disclaimers: Still nothing as well, as in I still own nothing.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Last Night**

_"C'mon, Lisbon, pull yourself together."_

_Even though she could only attempt to splutter a retort, she still managed to aim a threatening glare at her dinner companion. He merely chuckled at her from across the table as she struggled to recover from nearly choking to death on her drink. She felt the heat creeping up her neck and flooding her cheeks. Her only consolation was the fact they were seated close to the back corner of the diner, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. Looking rather apologetic, he offered her a handful of napkins which she grabbed appreciatively._

_"You know," he said with a wide grin, "aside from the fact that you nearly hacked up a lung, it's really good to see you laugh."_

_Clearing her throat one last time, she raised her gaze at him, noting the soft expression in his blue eyes. He started to reach across the table when she instinctively pulled her hand away from his to a grab a fry._

_"These chili fries are amazing," she mumbled._

_He made no mention of the awkwardness that had passed. Instead, he carefully retracted his arm._

_"Have I ever steered you wrong?"_

_She raised a brow, her lips quirking into a smirk. _

_"Someone is conveniently forgetting about the hiking fiasco of '06…"_

_"Don't you dare," he interrupted. "I thought we made a deal never to bring that up in public. Ever."_

_The sheer panic on his face was almost enough to cause her to break down into another fit of giggles._

_"What deal?" she questioned innocently._

_Before she knew what was happening, he had swiped a fry off her plate, chucking it directly at her. The potato projectile bounced off the tip of her nose as she stared at him in stunned disbelief._

_"Bull's-eye," he exclaimed._

_She narrowed her eyes, throwing her own fry at him. He let out an undignified yelp as the pair launched into an all-out food fight…_

"Boss?"

Immediately, she was drawn back to reality, noticing Cho was standing in her open doorway.

"Yeah?"

"You've got a call. Line two."

He didn't elaborate, not that she needed him to.

"Thanks," she replied curtly.

Cho hesitated briefly as though he had wanted to say something more. She waited for him to continue and was relieved when he simply nodded his head. When he was gone, she took a cleansing breath and lifted the phone to her ear.

"Lisbon," she answered.

"Hey, Treat."

She smiled at the sound of the familiar voice on the other end.

"You know I hate that nickname."

There was a lengthy pause. She heard him expel a heavy sigh before he spoke again.

"What happened?"

The smile on her face instantly withered from her lips. She managed to calmly relay the CliffsNotes version of the past six hours.

The morning had started with a flood of phone calls, multiple gunshots being fired at a small apartment complex outside of the city. SWAT, SPD, CSU, all flooded the scene, only to find no suspect and no gun. Instead, they found a small tape deck. Volume cranked to the max, playing a looped recording of a mafia shootout fit for Hollywood. Yet even without any evidence of a weapon, there were two bodies. Victim number one appeared to have been strangled, stabbed multiple times with a blunt object. Victim two bled out from a blow to the back of the head.

She stopped, convincing herself that she was allowing him a moment to digest the situation. But the truth was, she couldn't continue. Thankfully, he filled the silence.

"And you're sure it's him?"

Her throat felt dry. Her free hand involuntarily began twirling the phone cord tighter around her fingers.

"It's Hunt."

It was by sheer will that she was able to just say his name.

"I'm sorry," she added softly.

"Yeah, me too."

He sighed again, the conversation slipping into a lull.

"When the coroner's done, I'll make arrangements for the… _his_ body."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"If you need anything…"

"I know."

Another uncomfortable pause. Mercifully, it was much shorter than the first.

"I'll, uh, talk with Hunt's folks in the morning."

Numbly, she nodded her head, knowing full well he couldn't see her. She felt selfishly grateful she didn't have to be the messenger this time. She wouldn't have to see the look of anguish on Don and Marianne Letko's faces when they receive the news that their only son had been murdered.

"Give them my condolences."

He grunted in response as an unfamiliar voice mumbled something incoherently in the background.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"Don't be," she insisted. "I should let you go."

"Keep me posted?"

"Will do."

"Oh, T? Nail this son of a bitch."

Neither of them said goodbye. The second she hung up, she felt a nagging twinge in the pit of her stomach. She knew there was no point wasting time feeling sad or guilty. Getting up from her chair, she strolled into the bullpen to rejoin her team.

"What have we got on the victims?" she demanded, composure intact.

They had all gathered around Van Pelt's computer. Rigsby was perched at the edge of her desk, Cho stood beside him. The trio exchanged glances before the red-headed agent handed Lisbon a folder.

"Dr. Franklin Greene, thirty one, linguistics professor at the Donovan Institute," Rigsby explained. "Apartment was his. Neighbors said he was a stand-up guy. Started a late night watch program to combat a recent string of thefts in the building."

"Could have been a robbery gone wrong," Van Pelt suggested.

Lisbon vehemently shook her head.

"There was rage in Greene's murder. Premeditated."

She quickly leafed through the print-outs. She stopped at a particular photo. A handsome face stared up at her. Dark hair, steel-blue eyes, a warm and inviting smile.

"The second victim…" Van Pelt trailed off.

She looked over to Rigsby uncomfortably while he offered her a small grin of support.

"Special Agent Hunter Letko," Lisbon filled in solemnly. "F.B.I."

The air prickled with tension, no one dared to add anything else. Calmly flipping through the rest of the dossier in complete silence, Lisbon then handed the folder back to Rigsby.

"Cho, Rigsby, talk with Greene's colleagues and students. I'm sure somebody knows something. Van Pelt, find out everything you can about our good professor. Ex-wives, lovers, maybe we'll get lucky."

After assigning their tasks, she cast a glance across the room at the empty leather couch by the window. She frowned. It suddenly dawned on her that it had been way too quiet.

"Where the hell is Jane?"

* * *

_**TBC...  
**_

_**Chapter 2 Preview**_

_"Please, call me, Lexi."_

_"Lexi, what a lovely name."_

_"Thank you," she replied with a flirtatious giggle._

_He fought the instinctive urge to run. She even laughed the same way his wife did._


	3. Chapter 2: Her Likeness

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I hit a bit of a wall and went all crazy with the editing, so my apologies! Chapter 3 will be up quicker *fingers crossed* Thanks as always to my speedy beta Lysh and to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited. Cookies for Yana, Cat, ****Amber, **Crystal, Tracie, Kathi-Ann, June, ******Lynne, ****phoenixmagic1, **Div, anthropologist and mtm. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I own pens and pencils but not the Mentalist. Yes my disclaimers are becoming less witty in my old age...**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Her Likeness**

He stepped out of the vehicle, a cool breeze ruffling his curls as a hand guided him safely onto the sidewalk. Once he was steady on his feet, he stretched his arms above him, taking in a deep breath.

"Ah, thank you, Alonzo."

"You're very welcome, Mr. Jane. Would you like me to help you to the door?"

"No, thank you, I'll be fine. You go and take care of that lovely wife and daughter of yours."

Reaching into his pocket, Jane freed a wad of bills and placed them into Alonzo's open palm.

"Uh, Mr. Jane, th-this, this is way too generous…"

Smiling brightly, Jane had already begun to walk away, leaving only with a small wave at the flabbergasted cabbie. He made his way down the cobblestone path towards what he assumed was the entrance to the prestigious Donovan Institute. In his mind, he could picture the pristine slate exterior, Romanesque pillars, glass windows from floor to ceiling. To say that the building was impressive would have been a complete understatement. It had presence, he could feel it. He ambled inside, a whoosh of air rushing by when the automatic doors opened and closed behind him.

"Oooh, fancy," he admired before he was greeted by a cherry voice.

"Welcome to the Donavan Institute. How may I help you?"

He maneuvered himself until his cane hit a large solid object, picturing a bright eyed blonde seated behind a round desk island constructed from stone and glass. It took him half a second to realize he had imposed the likeness of his late wife on the young, impressionable receptionist and another second to recover from his momentary slip in concentration. Mustering his most disarming smile, he felt along the countertop, stopping when he made contact with an embossed metal placard which read, _A. Riesler_.

"Hello, Miss Riesler, my name is Patrick. I'm looking for a Dr. Franklin Greene."

"I'm sorry, but Frank isn't in today."

"Oh, I see," he said, feigning disappointment. "Is one of his colleagues available perhaps? It's of the utmost importance that I speak with someone from Frank's department."

"The associate dean is in his office right now. What exactly is this about?"

"Important business," he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "_Confidential_ business, actually."

"Confidential," she echoed softly.

He mindlessly traced the letters on her nameplate and wasn't even aware of it until she covered her hand atop his. Delicate, long fingers gently curled around his palm, a perfect pedigree for a virtuoso pianist. Immediately, he pulled away.

"So," he said breaking the silence, "if you could just keep my presence here between you and me, Miss Riesler…"

"Please, call me, Lexi."

"Lexi, what a lovely name."

"Thank you," she replied with a flirtatious giggle.

He fought the instinctive urge to run. She even laughed the same way his wife did.

"Dr. Horowitz is down the hall, last door on the right. I can take you there…"

"No need," he insisted. "I can find the office myself. It was very nice meeting you, Lexi."

"Likewise, Patrick."

With a parting grin, he held out his cane and started down the corridor, relief flooding his entire body. He figured he didn't have a whole lot of time before the cavalry would arrive to collect him, so he had to move quickly. He didn't make it very far when he heard two distinct voices caught in a heated argument.

_"It's not right and you know it."_

_ "Why the Hell do you care if he gets the grant?"_

_"He's a good man."_

_"Oh. Oh, I get it, you've developed an inane crush on him too, haven't you?"_

_"Don't be ridiculous, Declan."_

_"Ridiculous? Now that is a great word to describe his proposal. Did you bother reading it at all or are you so in love with him that you couldn't even see it was utter garbage?"_

"I hate to say it but I have to agree. Utter garbage."

Jane grinned, sensing two sets of eyes on him. One belonged to an older gentleman, who he assumed was the esteemed Dr. Horowitz and the other, an unfamiliar woman. Inside the office, the air was filled with chalk dust, musky books and a light floral fragrance.

"Who are you?"

Horowitz's voice was gruff with just a hint of an accent. Eastern European, if Jane had to warrant a guess.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners? The name is Patrick, Patrick Jane. I'm with the C.B.I."

He held up his ID, dramatically tracing an arc in the air.

"C.B.I.? What has Frank done this time?"

"Frank hasn't done anything, Dr. Horowitz, aside from being a corpse at the city morgue."

Jane first heard the strangled sob of the woman, followed by the sound of her expensive heels clicking against the tiled floor as she brushed past him, fleeing the room.

"That was unnecessarily cruel."

Simply glad that he was alone with Horowitz, Jane shrugged his shoulders.

"Just telling it like it is."

"Frank's dead."

Horowitz's question came across as a somber statement.

"As a doornail."

The professor sighed and shuffled across the room. His heavy footfalls echoed inside the tiny office. Suddenly, he paused in mid-stride.

"Are you blind?"

"Yes I am."

"Huh," he grunted.

Turning around, Horowitz dragged a pair of chairs towards Jane.

"Thank you."

"Sure."

Jane cautiously eased himself down onto the seat placed in front of him.

"Ah, comfy."

He ran his fingers along the wooden carvings engraved into the armrests, feeling an intricate design of crosses and stars.

"So what happened?" Horowitz asked rather anxiously.

"Happened?"

"Frank, what happened to him?"

"Oh, he was murdered."

A tense silence befell them.

"Judging by your lack of emotion with regards to your colleague's untimely demise, I take it you and Frank weren't exactly faculty buddies."

"The guy was an arrogant prick."

"Care to elaborate?"

"He drove my secretary, Alicia, up the wall, planning these outrageous field trips for his students. Behind my back, mind you. And then, he had the audacity to expect the department to flip the bill. Cairo, Athens…"

"Jerusalem."

"Yes, how did you know that?"

There was an almost imperceptible hitch in Horowitz's voice.

"It doesn't matter," Jane waved off, filing away the professor's intriguing reaction. "Where were you between six and nine o'clock this morning?"

"Hold on a minute, you can't possibly think that _I_ had something to do with Frank's murder?"

"You just admitted you hated the man. I believe that's what cops like to call motive."

"I did not _hate_ Frank. He was a pompous thorn in my side, yes, but killing him over money? That's just preposterous."

"Oooh, good word. Preposterous."

"I think we're done here, Mr. Jane."

"Not so fast, Declan. May I call you Declan?" Jane didn't give Horowitz time to respond. "You _did_ hate Frank. Let's not try to deny it. He's the fresh, handsome, hotshot professor that all the students loved and the faculty admired. You, on the other hand, are the cranky, ancient old coot that everyone despised. And you most definitely hated Frank for that."

"Jane?"

Putting on a brilliant smile, he craned his head towards the sound of his name.

"Rigsby, Cho, glad you could join us," Jane greeted cheerily as he turned back towards Horowitz. "You know, Declan, Lexi is a sweet gal, but she's a horrible security guard."

"Please take this man and leave. Now."

"We apologize for Mr. Jane's actions," Cho said diplomatically.

"He does but I don't," quipped Jane. "I think one of you should arrest him."

"Jane, we don't have any reaso…"

Rigsby was cut off by a loud crash. A noisy scuffle ensued before Jane heard the metallic click of handcuffs. When the dust had settled, Jane stood up and clumsily held out his arm, finding Rigsby's shoulder.

"Was that reason enough for you?"

* * *

**_TBC..._**

**_Chapter 3 Preview _**

_"You need to quit feeling so guilty."_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"Hunter's death, you need to quit feeling so guilty. Naturally…"_

_"You know, putting an entire country between you and me is sounding more appealing by the second."_


	4. Chapter 3: Capital Idea

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been feeling rather uninspired as of late so the last few parts for Redress are still in the works. Thank you to everyone who have been reading. Special thanks to Lysh my beta, the other two parts of the Snacklepop monster for encouraging me and to Susan who reviewed all three chapters. As a bonus I give you the first of many cameos (hopefully) in this fic. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: It's four in the morning. I know that has nothing to do with me not owning anything, but I thought I'd throw that out there.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Capital Idea**

She scanned the crime scene photos scattered across her desk. Two bodies. Two different COD's. Yet, one glaring similarity. She lifted the photo at her fingertips. She pictured Hunter's bright eyes, so full of life, a far cry from the bloody face glaring up at her. Three perfect stitches held his left lid together, matching ones crisscrossed its pair shut. Those once bright eyes, gouged from its sockets. A signature? A message? Questions still eluding her. She was so deep in thought, she failed to notice she was being watched until her office door clattered open. Glancing up, she expected to see Minelli. Instead, a different set of blue eyes were staring back at her.

"Hey."

"Sam, what are you doing here?"

He stared at his feet for a moment.

"I heard about Letko. I wanted to offer my condolences."

When he looked back up at her, she folded her arms coolly across her chest.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again.

"I just wanted to see how you were holding up."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"I'm _fine_," she repeated. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I know that the two of you were close…"

"Is there something you want?" she interrupted calmly. "Because I'm really busy, you know, trying to catch a murderer."

"Okay. I get it. You don't want to talk about it," Bosco paused, running his hand along the edge of her desk. "But on the off chance you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me."

He bent towards her, a wry smile flitting across his face. She simply smiled at him in return, reclining back in her seat. Without another word, he turned around, almost colliding into Jane.

"Sorry, blind man coming through," her blond consultant called out as he brushed past Bosco.

Lisbon bit back a laugh at the comical face Bosco pulled before she watched him disappear out the door. She then turned her attention to Jane. A scowl replaced her amused grin as he flopped down onto her couch. She chose to ignore him, focusing instead on the coroner's preliminary report in her hands.

"I'm fine, Lisbon, thank you for asking," Jane announced dramatically. "I'm touched by your concern for my safety but you shouldn't waste your energy worrying…"

He purposely paused in midsentence, as though he was waiting for her to scold him about protocol. However, at that moment, she had neither the patience nor the energy to deal with his childish behavior.

"Lisbon?"

"What is it, Jane?" she sighed.

"This is the part where you yell at me."

"And what good would that do exactly? You're just going to do whatever you want anyway, regardless of what I have to say."

He was quiet for a moment, his brows drawing together.

"Okay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I'm trying to conduct an investigation and you're off traipsing the city pissing people off. Business as usual."

"Person," he corrected. "I pissed off _a_ person."

"And it almost cost Rigsby an eye. He's already injured enough as is."

"It wasn't my fault that Horowitz is deceptively fast for a man of his stature."

She glared at him. She was jealous of how completely relaxed he looked, his hands clasped lazily across his stomach.

"I thought you'd be in there with Cho questioning Horowitz. He was _your_ catch of the day."

"Eh, the interrogation was going nowhere. Besides, he's not our guy."

"Perfect. You pissed off an innocent man."

"Innocent men don't run."

"Then why was he running?"

"Hadn't filed a tax return in over five years. Plus, he had an alibi," Jane yawned. "Boring."

"So we're back to square one."

"Cheer up, Lisbon, we'll catch a break. In fact, one should be arriving oh, right about… now."

Lisbon stared at her closed door, impatiently tapping her foot.

"Any second."

She was about to resume reading when she was interrupted by a soft knock on the door before Van Pelt entered.

"I found something."

From the corner of eye, she could spot the smug smirk settling across Jane's face. She got up and followed in Van Pelt's wake, leaving Jane to his own devices. As Lisbon peered over Van Pelt's shoulder, she came face to face with a mug-shot of a younger and more disheveled Franklin Greene.

"The professor has a record in Virginia. A couple of B&E's, minor drug possession, nothing big. What's interesting is the name he was charged under."

"Isaac Greenstein," Lisbon read off the screen. "So he changed his name, straightened out his life, moved to California for a fresh start…"

"Let Grace finish," Jane interjected as he moseyed over towards them. "I think she was just getting to the juicy part."

Lisbon rolled her eyes as Van Pelt pulled up a new window. A candid snapshot of a pretty woman instantly filled the screen, her arms wrapped tightly around a young boy.

"We got lucky," Van Pelt quipped.

"Greenstein didn't just leave behind a criminal record," Lisbon mused aloud, "he left behind a family."

"Wife's name is Allyson McCreedy. She and their four year old son, Max, live just outside of Georgetown."

"Have you contacted McCreedy?"

"Not yet. Did you want me to call her?

"No, I'll take care of it. Good work, Van Pelt."

Her compliment earned her an earnest smile from the rookie agent as Lisbon returned to her office. She noticed Jane lingering in the bullpen for a while longer, eyeing him suspiciously when he eventually rejoined her.

"You need to slow down, woman. I can't exactly keep up in my current state."

"Not my problem, Jane."

He unleashed a boyish grin on her as he once again settled down onto her couch.

"Did you get anything new from forensics?"

"Aside from what we already know, nothing yet. Why?" she asked skeptically.

"Curious. Our lab is way too slow."

"They're back logged, cut them some slack."

"You _could_ call in a favor from your contact in D.C."

She didn't dignify his suggestion with a reply, not to say that the thought hadn't crossed her mind. An hour earlier, she may have even gone as far as suggesting to Minelli that she wanted to deliver Hunter's remains in person.

"Or we could just pay a visit ourselves. I hear our fine Capital is beautiful this time of the year."

Staring at him in disbelief, she shook her head.

"_We_ aren't going anywhere."

"But you are."

She sighed, feeling too emotionally drained to play Jane's mind games.

"You need to quit feeling so guilty," he said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"Hunter's death, you're blaming…"

"You know, putting an entire country between you and me is sounding more appealing by the second."

"Already done, my dear Lisbon. I got Van Pelt to book us our tickets. You like having the window seat, yes?"

"No, I don't," she snapped. "And for the record, Van Pelt isn't your personal travel agent."

"Good, be angry. Let it all out."

Grabbing the photos and her folder, she stormed out of her office, slamming the door loudly behind her. She wandered into the break room, releasing the breath that she had been holding in. She dropped her belongings onto the kitchenette table and turned on the kettle. Despite the fact she was still thoroughly annoyed with herself for allowing Jane to get under her skin, she did feel slightly better. Not that she would ever admit it to his face.

* * *

_**TBC...**_

**_Chapter 4 Preview_**

_"You know what we need?"_

_ "No, but I get the feeling you're going to tell me even though I don't care."_

_ "Peanuts," he answered breezily. "I want some."_

_ "Stop being so demanding, we're not in business class."_


	5. Chapter 4: Aviophobic Reactions

**A/N: Yes I understand that I've neglected this fic. I deeply apologize to everyone who have been reading, particularily Cat for whom this fic is for. I hit a huge brick wall with this fic but I think I've gotten back on track since I've been writing so much as of late. Thank you to all the reviewers and lurkers. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Flight 1810 (Cookies for those who figure out what that means).**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Aviophobic Reactions**

_"Welcome aboard Flight 1810, nonstop to Washington D.C., this is your Captain speaking…"_

Jane tuned out the monotonous voice coming through the intercom, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. Aside from a minor incident with the stewardess about the proper way to make tea, he thought he had been on his best behavior. He was able to control the anxiety he felt being confined to a tin can, thousands of feet in the air. Unlike his travel companion. He turned to face Lisbon, immediately detecting the tension emanating from her.

"Isn't this fun?" he exclaimed, gently nudging her elbow on the armrest they were sharing.

"Oh yeah, it's a party."

Lisbon's sarcastic remark caused him to frown. He knew the case was taking a toll on her, especially since she had a rather personal connection to the case. Although she had never said it, Jane knew her relationship with Letko had been close. And knowing Lisbon, he also knew she was festering with immense guilt over his death.

"You know what we need?"

"No, but I get the feeling you're going to tell me even though I don't care."

"Peanuts," he answered breezily. "I want some."

"Stop being so demanding, we're not in business class."

"Ever wonder why they stopped serving peanuts on planes?"

"Not really."

"Personally, I think they should reinstate that policy."

"Take it up with the FAA."

"Now _that_ is an excellent idea."

"Great! Now will you be quiet so that I can sleep?"

"You won't be able to sleep. No point trying."

He listened to her restlessly adjust and readjust her pillow. She gave up on the hopeless task after only a few minutes.

"I can't believe you booked us on the red-eye," she muttered irritably.

"Hey, don't blame me, blame Van Pelt."

"I'm not stuck listening to her complain about peanuts or lack thereof."

"She's not here to defend herself. Ergo, more reason to blame her."

"I'm going to ignore you now.

"You can try all yo…"

Jane was cut off as the plane jerked to the right before taking a sudden plunge in altitude. Instinctively, he grabbed a hold of Lisbon's hand. He had forgotten just how much he hated flying. Back when he was travelling from city to city, during his days masquerading as a psychic, he used to enjoy flying. Champagne, beautiful women, first class, all the way. The seatbelt sign chimed on as the plane tossed about for a couple heart stopping minutes before eventually leveling out.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the unexpected turbulence…"_

"You okay?" she asked gently.

He took a moment to regain control of his breathing.

"Yeah," he replied. "You?"

"Yeah."

They fell into an awkward silence.

"You can let go now," she whispered.

Releasing his death grip on her, Jane gently patted the back of her hand.

"Right, sorry."

"Uh huh," she replied. "I didn't know that the great Patrick Jane was afraid of flying."

"I am _not_ afraid of flying."

"Oh really? Is that why you nearly crushed my hand?"

"If I recall correctly, you were equally crushing my hand."

"Please, I was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Uh, excuse me?"

A quiet, yet stern voice interrupted their bickering, belonging to an elderly woman sitting in the row ahead of them.

"I'm sorry, but my husband isn't feeling too well. So if you could keep it down, I would really appreciate it."

"My apologies, ma'am," Lisbon mumbled.

Jane smirked at the blush that he imagined was coloring Lisbon's cheeks.

"Thank you."

The seat in front of Jane squeaked as the woman sat back down.

_"You didn't have to do that."_

_"Hush, James, you need your rest."_

_"You worry too much. Besides, they kind of remind me of us when we were first dating."_

"Stop it," Lisbon hissed in his ear.

Jane grinned at the irritated tone of her voice as he carefully leaned over to retrieve the pack stowed at his feet.

"Stop what?" he questioned innocently.

"Eavesdropping. It's rude."

"How do you know I was eavesdropping if you weren't doing the exact same thing?"

"I-I was doing no such thing," she huffed.

"I'm blind, Lisbon, not stupid."

"That is clearly debatable."

"But I _am_ blind."

Jane waved his free hand in front of his eyes as though to prove his point.

"Now, why don't you tell me why you're really upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt."

"And people think _we_ are a couple?"

He had hoped perhaps she would open up to him, but he couldn't help but be a tad intrigued by her response.

"Not the first time," he shrugged off. "Certainly won't be the last."

"I don't get it."

"Why do you say that?"

The question was uttered purely by reflex, just as his impulse to grab her hand was when the plane had hit the rough pocket of air. He felt irrationally hurt by her assessment of a potential relationship between them, no matter how improbable that chance may have been.

"Because…" she was quiet for an uncomfortably long time.

"We're both attractive, intelligent individuals, so why not?"

The silence was unnerving. He could almost hear the wheels spinning frantically in her mind.

"Y-you think I'm attractive?"

There was an unusual tinge of uncertainty in her voice. He had expected her to laugh off his pathetic attempt at a compliment. Stopping his search through his bag, he turned towards her, his mouth crinkling into a smile.

"Oh Lisbon, no need to fret. I know you're a stickler for professional boundaries, but I am a man after all."

He meant what he said. And if he had to be completely honest with himself, he couldn't ignore the tiny part of him that flirted with the possibility of a romance with Lisbon. That was of course, if he had not been still very much in love with his wife.

The plane decided to make use of the brief pause in conversation to take another dive. This time it was Lisbon who grabbed a hold of his hand first. When the second spell of turbulence had passed, she pulled away from him.

"If we survive this flight, we are _driving_ back to Sacramento."

"Is this your subtle way of saying that you wouldn't mind spending time stuck in a cramped car with me?"

"You know on second thought, I'll take my chances with the plane."

He chuckled, pleased that the brief tension between them had dissipated as he resumed rummaging through his bag.

"What are you looking for?"

"I know I've got it here somewhere, in here… Eureka!"

"Could you be any louder?" she scolded in a whisper.

"Oh, sorry," he said lowering his voice. "Eureka."

He could only imagine her rolling her eyes and was mildly surprised when he felt saddened at the fact he couldn't actually see it for himself.

"Gravol? That's what warranted a 'eureka'?"

Reaching out in front of him, he managed to locate the crack between the seats where he slid the sleeve of capsules through.

"James," he called out, "I think this should help with the motion sickness."

"Oh," a surprised voice replied, "thank you very much."

"You're very welcome."

Jane happily leaned back in his seat.

"That was nice of you," Lisbon said begrudgingly.

"I do have my moments," he replied. "So are you going to re-evaluate our mini road trip?"

"Let me think about that. No."

And although she attempted to sound irritated, he felt content knowing he was able to make a smile worthy of feeling to appear across her face.

* * *

**TBC...**

_**Chapter 5 Preview**_

_"Dammit," she muttered under her breath._

_"I told you so."_

_"How did you know she wasn't home?"_

_"ESP."_


	6. Chapter 5: Looney Bin

**A/N: I know what you're thinking. A year and finally an update? I'm trying to finish this fic. It's been gnawing at me for so long and I'm determined to finish this for Cat and for all of you lovely readers. My suggestion is to go back and re-read the first four chapters. I did a complete overhaul of the fic. Nothing has changed but I am a lot happier with the edits. Thank you for all of your patience, it's much appreciated. Special thanks to Tracie for continuously to motivate me. Reviews make me happy. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Four seasons in and still nothing belongs to me.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Looney Bin**

"Allyson McCreedy! Ma'am, it's the police!"

"She's not here," Jane chirped.

Refusing to let his comment deter her efforts, she peered through the peephole of the midsized brownstone. She rang the doorbell three more times.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath.

"I told you so."

"You're not helping. And how did you know she wasn't home?"

"ESP," he answered breezily.

Lisbon couldn't stop her eyes from rolling.

"You had Van Pelt call ahead, didn't you?"

"If her career as a travel agent doesn't pan out, she'd make a great telemarketer."

"How many times…"

Her rant was abruptly cut short when a yellow convertible pulled up behind their parked rental car. A little boy, bearing a strong resemblance to Max, jumped out of the backseat while a woman emerged from the driver's side. Although she was blonde, the similarities between her and Allyson McCreedy ended there.

"Judging by your silence," Jane whispered, leaning in over her shoulder, "my guess is either aliens have landed and they want us to take them to our leader or the owners have returned to their humble abode."

Lisbon didn't entertain him with a response as she made her way down the steps towards the woman.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

The blonde immediately looked up at Lisbon with inquiring hazel eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon," Lisbon introduced, flashing her badge before pointing behind her. "Patrick Jane. We're with the California Bureau of Investigation."

"California?"

"Lisbon…" Jane interjected in a sing-song manner.

"We're looking for Allyson McCreedy," Lisbon continued, ignoring Jane. "We'd like to speak with her."

A lengthy, uncomfortable pause followed.

"Sweetie," the blonde said cheerfully, turning to the young boy at her side, "why don't you go inside and play with your toys, okay?"

With a loud sigh, Max eyed Lisbon wearily before grabbing the keys from the woman's open palm. Lisbon heard Jane and Max exchange pleasantries before the little boy disappeared inside.

"Lisbon…" Jane piped up again.

"This is some kind of sick joke, right?" the woman demanded frostily.

She had her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at Lisbon who was surprised at the blonde's sudden one-eighty.

"Excuse me?"

"My sister has been living at Palmerema Grove for the past two months."

"Palmerema Grove?" Lisbon repeated, puzzled.

"Uh, mental institution," Jane supplied enthusiastically, before the woman could. "It's a mental institution."

Slowly, Lisbon turned and stared at Jane who looked completely calm.

"You have a lovely little garden here, Ms. McCreedy" he commented, pausing to sniff the air. "Do I smell wintersweet?"

* * *

April McCreedy poured two cups of tea, guiding one into Jane's hands before giving the other to Lisbon. She had invited them inside, after Jane had bonded with the woman over flower beds and offered her some landscaping suggestions.

"Ah, peppermint," he sighed happily. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," April replied.

Nervously, she tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear before turning to Lisbon.

"I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier. It's just Ally took care of me growing up when our parents passed away. She was my big sister."

"Ms. McCreedy," Lisbon started gently, not wanting to upset the young woman. "You refer to your sister as though she's already dead."

Sighing deeply, April settled into the armchair across from the sofa they were currently occupying.

"She might as well be. After the accident, she changed. She can't even remember her own name. It's all been really hard on the family, especially on Max."

"You live here with Max now?"

April nodded her head.

"So, Issac's really dead huh?"

"I'm afraid so," Lisbon answered.

"Well, that bastard deserved it for what he did to Ally and Max."

"He was stabbed multiple times, had his eyes gouged out," Jane said nonchalantly.

"Oh God."

"Jane," Lisbon chastised.

"C'mon Lisbon, we're wasting our time. It's obvious April didn't kill our esteemed professor. She was here taking care of her nephew. Pointless questioning her."

"Wait, you thought I killed him?" April demanded, wide-eyed.

"Ms. McCreedy, we need to consider all possabilities," replied Lisbon patiently. "Do you know anyone who may have wanted to hurt Mr. Greene, I mean Mr. Greenstein?"

"Only one. That psycho ex-girlfriend of his."

"Does this girlfriend have a name?"

"Alexis something, I can't remember. All I know is that when Issac bailed, she left not long after."

"You wouldn't happen to know where we could find her."

"Not a clue," April shrugged.

"Well, if you remember anything, please feel free to give me a call," Lisbon said as she handed over her card. "Thank you for your time."

Looking over at Jane, Lisbon found him staring blankly ahead. She nudged him with her foot, snapping him out of his trance-like state.

"Oh yes, thank you."

He rose to his feet before turning back around.

"If I could offer some advice, April, let go of your anger towards your brother-in-law. It's not healthy for you to be so embittered, especially now that you're trying to raise an impressionable boy like your nephew."

Smiling apologetically at a completely unamused April McCreedy, Lisbon dragged Jane by the arm out the door and led him back to the rental car.

"What the hell was that?"

"I was just speaking my mind."

"What you said was inappropriate. And what happened in there? You completely spaced out on me."

He hesitated a moment before removing his sunglasses.

"Thinking dirty thoughts," he replied with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Tell me."

"Maybe later, I'm tired."

She tweaked him on the nose.

"Owww, woman, must you always resort to violence?"

"Tell me, now."

"I'll tell you when we get to Palmerema Grove."

"Okay I'll bite. Why are we going to Palmerema Grove?"

"To talk with Allyson McCreedy, of course."

"You heard her sister. McCreedy suffered permanent brain damage. What's she going to tell us?"

"Don't know yet, hence why, we need to ask McCreedy herself. If you're too tired to drive…"

"You've conveniently forgotten that you're blind."

"Minor details. Besides, I expect you're better at directions than Van Pelt. She's a whiz on a computer but her navigational skills leave a lot to be desired."

"Now I know why Minelli wanted you to come with me."

"I'm blind, Lisbon, not deaf."

Lisbon rolled her eyes as she pulled out her cell phone.

"Van Pelt."

"I need you to track down a woman named Alexis, no last name," Lisbon ordered, skipping the pleasantries. "She's an ex-girlfriend of Greene. I'll call if we find out more information to narrow the search. Anything new from forensics?"

"We're supposed to be getting DNA results but the lab won't specify when."

"Get a hold of J.P. and tell him that Teresa wants to call in the favor he owes her."

"Got it, boss."

"Oh and Van Pelt? Don't do everything Jane tells you to."

Ending the call, Lisbon entered Palmerema Grove into the GPS unit.

"Well that was rude," Jane commented.

"She'll live. What I don't get is why you didn't just tell me Allyson McCreedy was at Palmerema Grove in the first place."

"I didn't know she was there."

"But you had Van Pelt check to see if McCreedy was home."

"And she wasn't."

"Then how did you know Palmerema was a mental institution?"

"With a name like Palmerema Grove, it was either a mental institution or a retirement home."

Lisbon glared at him dubiously.

"You can keep glaring at me all you want, Lisbon, I still can't see you."

"Why couldn't you have been mute instead," she muttered as she started the engine.

"I heard that."

* * *

**_TBC..._**

**_Chapter 6 Preview_**

_"What is it?" Jane asked impatiently. "No wait, let me guess, CSU found some interesting trace evidence."_

_"Traces of gold and oil were embedded in Letko's skull."_

_"Gold. Interesting."_

_"Whatever the killer used, it was expensive."_


End file.
